Samenwerkings Verhaal
by Raxzo
Summary: Previously "As Of Yet Collaborative" such and such... It's been years since the events of "JtHM" and "Squee!". Todd Casil is a teenager, and Johnny is back and killing like normal. The good life. That is, until a crazy pyromaniac cowboy busts in. FUN, no?
1. Dream Your Future

**Goodie Gumdrops! A brand new fun-licious, thing-a-ma... ah, shit, I can't do it. This is the first chapter of whatever this thing'll be named, done by me. The next will be done by ****tasty ****cheez****.**

**Huzzah.**

* * *

Johnny C. rarely dreams.

This happened to be in direct correlation with the fact that he rarely slept, but it was more than that. Whenever his body actually did shut down from over two weeks worth of insomnia, nothing ever happened. Just a blank, pure black unconsciousness and that oh-so-hated feeling of disorientation.

But it was different for once.

He didn't remember falling asleep, but he knew he had. There was no clue or indication that he was dreaming, but he knew he was. Johnny was standing in a four-way intersection, cars piled around the edge. All the cars, buildings and even the sidewalk were on fire, a massive, all-engulfing flame.

Johnny only had time to gaze at the works of the one that had played Arson when an earthquake occured. The ground began to shake and split, the asphalt cracking apart. Then a black hand burst forth. Slowly, an arm came up, the another, then a whole body, all covered in an inky darkness.

The only parts not covered in black were an old brown stetson on the figure's head and two gleaming pistols pointed at Johnny.

With two thundering bangs and puffs of smoke added to the rising mass of burned city, the guns fired. The bullets flew in slow motion, but Johnny didn't move. They crawled across the distance between the two. The fires still roared around Johnny. Buildings started to collapse as the bullets finally tore into Johnny. One in the shoulder, breaking his collarbone; one in the forehead, shredding his brain...

And he woke up.

Johnny C. sat his slim frame up immediatly, more from wanting to regain his senses than from fear of the dream. That was another reason he hated sleep. No damn consistency. At least his living room was the same: the rotting wood walls, the desk piled high with Happy Noodle Boy comics, the literal bunny-ear TV set, the beaten up old couch.

It was the couch Johnny had slept on, and the TV was blaring some odd noise. Johnny stood up.

"Damn. Weird dream. Like there's not enough shit in my head without _dreams _to contend with." He noticed that there was some kind of emergency news broadcast on TV. Something about a mass murderer attacking the city.

_Heh,_ Johnny thought, _big deal. I'm mass murder incarnate._

The newscaster said something more about the terrible gruesomeness of the situation, then switched to a live video footage.

A man stood in the middle of a road, cars piled all about. Some of the cars had burst into flames, making the man have a silhouette form. He was firing two guns at people, cars, whatever was close. People were running around, screaming, many of them bleeding. The man was laughing and screaming in the crowd. He wore a tattered brown poncho, regular blue jeans, and cowboy boots.

But what really got Johnny was the old brown stetson on the man's head as he screamed.

"YEEE-HA-HAW!! THA'S RIGHT, RUN, SHITHEADS!! _RUN!! _HA-HA-HA-HA!! WHEN YA SEE TH' DEVIL, TELL 'IM OL' WILLIE WILIKER SENT YA!! YAH-HA-HA!!"

The video ran for a few seconds longer, then a bullet hit the camera, and there was static. Johnny shut off the TV.

Burning intersection. Crazy cowboy. So much like the dream, and something about the cowboy's name...

"Fuck." Johnny said. "Another maniac."

Johnny grabbed his smiley face knives from the umbrella stand by the door and stepped outside. He saw a glow in the distance and heard faint gunshots.

With an I-can't-believe-I'm-actually-doing-this sigh, Johnny began to walk towards the glow.

* * *

The entire town was deserted as Johnny walked through it, which was decidedly a good thing. He drew closer to the sounds of fire and guns and wondered why he was doing this.

_It's just a dream,_ Johnny thought. _Why the hell should I care? It's only coincidental, nothing prophetic or fated about it..._

Johnny paused for a second seeing a frightened lady run towards him, asking for help. With a quick jab, his knife was in her throat. He slid it out and kept walking. He didn't want to lose his train of thought.

_I mean, it's not like I don't have a choice. I could just turn around a go home._

But he kept walking.

_Shit. Another inexcusable flaw of Johnny C. Keep walking, doing something I don't want to do, just like with the wall! DAMN! I'm getting all worked up! I don't have emotions, for fuck's sake._

_Of course you have emotions, m'boy!_ Reverend Meat chimed in.

"Oh, shut up, Meat! You're not even here!" Johnny said out loud. He was thankful that the town was deserted; all the people would have stared at him, and he would have had to kill them all.

_Hell, I could just go home now, just turn around and walk away. That's right. That's what I'm gonna do. Just walk away._

But he was already there.

* * *

The first thing Johnny noticed was the heat. Of course fire would be hot, but not _this_ hot. Not even Hell was this hot.

The cowboy in the middle was still firing off at random, not hitting anything. He'd stopped laughing.

Johnny comtemplated walking away like he so wanted to, but the cowboy noticed him out of the corner of his eye.

"Well, how-dee, Mister Johnny." the cowboy said. He holstered his guns.

"Oh, I'm so glad the crazy psychotic cowboy knows my name. Honored, really." Johnny said. No backing out now.

"And you are a Mister, Wiliker, was it? Heh, funny name... Yes, well, you seem to be rapidly destroying this city, which actually doesn't bother me, but you are making quite the noise. It's bothersome, and all the people screaming..."

"Heh-heh-heh." Wiliker laughed. "Don't care 'bout no one else, do ya? Just like you, Nny."

Johnny gripped his knives tighter. "Did you just call me_ Nny?_"

Wiliker grinned. "Hey, cool it, goth boy. Don't wanna go and pop a vein 'r somethin'."

Johnny clenched his teeth and managed to spurt out, "DID YOU JUST _STEREOTYPE ME?_"

Wiliker unholstered his pistols. "Whatcha gonna do 'bout it? _Cut _me?"

Johnny's rage finally flowed over the edge. "_WELL YOU ARE BEGGING FOR IT!!_"

With that, Johnny rushed towards Wiliker, knives pointed forward.


	2. Casil Hears Cowboy

**This here's tasty cheez's chapter. It went in a _totally_ different way than I thought it would. **

**I'm gonna like writn' the next chapter.**

It was a quiet morning in his neighborhood.

No one was up. No one wanted to be up.

It was a sleepy Saturday morning. Seven AM. He liked waking up early. He didn't like the concept of sleeping his life away.

He had already started breakfast. Eggs, bacon, hash browns. He was a very good cook for only being fifteen.

His house was empty that morning, as it was most mornings. He hadn't seen his parents in weeks. It was safe to assume what had happened to them, considering that he lived right next to Johnny C., but he didn't really care. He didn't love them, hell, _they_ didn't even like _him_. He was better off this way.

He sat at the table eating his breakfast, every so often brushing aside his shaggy bangs. After his morning meal, he walked into the living room and sat on the couch. It was time for Saturday morning cartoons. Unfortunately, cartoons were not on.

There was a 'Live Action News Break!' on instead. Todd Casil watched the events unfold on the screen: flaming cars, a man screaming, then static, for about five seconds.

He clicked off the T.V. Out his window, he could see a glowing light. A stange sight. But then, he saw an even stranger sight.

Johnny was walking down the street, stabbed some lady in the throat, and kept walking. Not so stange by itself, but he seemed to be walking towards the glowing light. Towards the screaming man.

"God damn it, Nny..." Todd said in a disappointed voice to no one in particular.

"Ugh." He pulled on his jacket and shoes and started following Johnny.

* * *

Todd ran down the street to where Johnny had already passed, hid behind a wall, and listened to the man speak to Johnny.

"Heh-heh-heh." The man was laughing. "Don't care 'bout no one else, do ya? Just like you, Nny."

_What the... _Todd thought, _Nny knows this guy?_

Todd could hear Jhonny's knuckles crack from gripping his knives even from where he was hiding. "Did you just call me_ Nny?_"

"Hey, cool it, goth boy. Don't wanna go and pop a vein 'r somethin'." the man said.

_Oh, that's smart, _Todd thought, _steroetype Nny, why dont you._

"DID YOU JUST _STEREOTYPE ME?_" Toss knew this voice. Johnny was pissed. It used to scare him, but now, it was almost funny.

The man replied, "Whatcha gonna do 'bout it? _Cut _me?"

_This guy is just BEGGING for it, _Todd thought.

"_WELL YOU ARE BEGGING FOR IT!!_"

Todd smiled a small smile and peeked a look at the two. He did not like what he saw.

His neighbor, knives in attack position, was rushing towards what looked like a... cowboy?

What the hell?


	3. Who DOES Like Burning?

Johnny ran up to slice Wiliker, now only a few meters away. A few feet now. His swung his knife at lightning speed, about to cut into the cowboy's neck skin, blood about to be freed-

With a loud clang, Wiliker blocked Johnny's knife with the barrel of a pistol.

Johnny paused for a second. He tried swinging his other knife, and Wiliker blocked it the same way.

"That it Nny?" Wiliker said. With a quick kick to the ribs, Johnny was launched back and crashed into one of the few intact cars. One of his knives flew from his hand and clanged onto the broken asphalt a few meters away.

"Fuck," Johnny said. He stood up. "Why am I here again?"

He ran off for Round 2 with Wiliker.

* * *

Todd watched from his wall, seeing Johnny get crashed into a car. This kind of thing never happened to Johnny.

_Probably 'cause he usually does this sort of thing to other people..._he tought as Johnny stood up and ran again toward the cowboy. _Why is he doing this? It's not like him at all. I mean, saving the city from a madman? He _is_ a madman!_

Todd saw that Johnny had dropped one of his knives on the street. He'd seen and heard Johnny do terrible things with that knife, and so many other weapons. Even back when everyone called Todd 'Squee', Johnny'd been there, either protecting him or freaking him out so bad he couldn't sleep.

_But why fight a cowboy, for god's sake?_

Todd heard more bangs, more gunshots. He looked back at Johnny. The cowboy had started shooting at him, and it took all the maniac's energy to dodge them. Johnny said something, but Todd couldn't hear it.

There was a type of end-of-battle ring as a final bullet raced across the air. An "Oof" from Johnny and a thud as he crashed to the ground, bleeding out his shoulder.

The cowboy just shot Johnny C.

Shot.

Johnny.

"Squee!" Todd squeaked.

* * *

Wiliker was trouble, no doubt.

It was bad enough that he'd lost one of his knives, but now Johnny was being shot at. It's not like he thought it would work, though; he'd been shot only once before, by his own accord, and it wasn't like no one ever tried.

He wasn't worried.

Bullets whizzed by, and Johnny kept moving to avoid them. Up, right, duck, right, left, duck, up, parry with knife, up, left, up, down, right, parry with knife, parry with knife, right, left, and so forth.

"Heh," Johnny said, "not as good as you thought you were?"

Wiliker smiled. A lone last bullet fired, and Johnny didn't move.

The scene, it wasn't like his dream, it _was_ his dream, something had happened, someone was _in his head_, and they were messing with him, tricking him, and he couldn't move, shouldn't move, wouldn't move...

The bullet passed into his shoulder, and Johnny swore he could hear a stick breaking where his collarbone should be.

He fell back onto the ground dropping his other knife next to him. He was bleeding, and that didn't happen often. Wiliker's thumping footsteps annoyed Johnny almost as much as his laugh as the cowboy stepped closer to him.

"Ah, Nny, ya gotta love the irony, eh? Ah mean, 's been fuckin' _years_ since ya cut ma hands off, and I_ shoot _ya to death. Ah mean, c'mon, it's at least good fer a chuckle, right?"

Wiliker pointed a gun at Johnny's head.

Johnny stared at him. "That makes so little sense, I'm not even going to difnify it with a proper response."

Wiliker cocked back the hammer. "Ah'll miss ya, Nny." he said. "Though not as much as ya'd think."

He fired the gun.

There was a flash, Johnny noticed. There wasn't a flash when he'd killed himself. A pinging sound, and Johnny was still alive. Moments later, Wiliker was furious.

"WHO THREW THAT!!" he screamed.

* * *

Todd was surprised.

He'd expected the knife to be hard to throw, but it flew like an arrow. The cowboy was too close, with his gun pointed to Johnny. Plus the maniac was down. Todd felt obliged to pay back the times Johnny'd helped him. The knife made a perfect bullet shield, when thrown correctly.

The cowboy noticed him. "Aw, c'mon! Ah get a fuckin' kid here?!"

Johnny grinned right away. "Hey, Squee!!" He waved like crazy.

Todd waved a small wave back. "Hey, Nny."

The cowboy pointed the other gun at squee. "Ah-heh. Squee, now _that's_ a funny name!"

Todd barely saw Johnny move, but he distinctly heard the shink of metal striking metal. Johnny was standing next to the cowboy, his smiley knife sticking through the cowboy's pistol and into his hand. Wires stuck out of the stabbed hand.

The cowboy stared at his hand. "Fuckin' Nny..." he said.

Johnny kicked the cowboy, repaying him back for earlier. He flew into a burning car, unlike Johnny had. There was a small tinkling of glass, a crunch of metal.

Then it exploded.

A massive fireball ignited by petrol heated the two men, glass and metal and melted plastic shooting past them. Johnny was still bleeding profusely.

"Welp," Johnny said, "he's dead."

"Yep." Todd said.

They stood watching the flames for a momemt.

"Wanna go?" Todd asked.

"Sure." Johnny said.

They both walked away.

* * *

Wiliker was burning. He didn't like to burn.

He stood up and walked out of the flaming wreck. He wasn't burned. His clothes weren't burned. There was no hole in his hand.

He stood in the middle of the broken up intersection. He looked to be waiting.

Another figure was falling slowly from the sky. He wore a tuxedo and a tophat. He carried a black wand.

"Roreese. What took ya?" Wiliker said.

The man twirled his wand. "You know I had to distract him, or Todd wouldn't of intervened."

"Fuck, that's Todd? Almost killed 'im..."

The man smiled. "No. You didn't."

Wiliker frowned.

"Yes, I know you can't wait to kill Johnny. Be patient. It'll only be a little longer."

"Hey, ah already waited thirteen years. Ah don't wanna wait no more."

"Tell that to the boss."

Wiliker said nothing.

The other man waved his wand. The two men glowed bright for a second, then they disappeared.


	4. They Always Knock At The Worst Time

Some people want to know what drove Johnny to be so violent, so crazy, so depressed. It's simple really: he couldn't vent.

All his creativity was stolen by the doughboys so instead of letting his emotion spill out into his art, it ended up exploding into the chest cavity of some unsuspecting victim. Bottling emotions isn't good. The dooughboys are gone now, but sadly the damage is irreversible. He will probably always be the psychopath that we all know and love. However, with no one around to steal his creativity, he can paint again, and that's the first thing he did after he got bandaged up.

He didn't paint for very long before he quit. On the canvas was one lonely, jagged, hurt filled line. Black against the white of the canvas. One day after Johnny is long and dead it will be found. People will marvel at the beauty of that line. They will stare at it and wonder how someone could get so much anguish in one paint stroke. People will relate to it, remembering their worst  
heartbreaks, and their saddest memories. No one will ever know that the anguish expressed in the painting was much more physical than emotional.

A gunshot wound in your drawing arm will do that.

Either way it's a fucking masterpiece.

Johnny was currently sitting on his couch. His knees were tucked to his chest. His eyes, barely visible over his legs, were focused on the painting. Those eyes were really off.

After an hour and a half of staring, Todd entered Johnny's shack. Knocking was way too formal after all the years that they've  
known each other. In Todd's hands was a medical kit.

"Hey Nny. It's time to change your bandages."

"Already? You usually wait longer before stitching me up."

"Yeah, well you usually don't get shot either. What did you do before I was here to give you medical attention?"

Johnny had to think about this for a while. He couldn't imagine life without his helpful little Squee, much less remember it.

"I don't remember. How'd you get so good at first aid Squee?"

"I lived next to you for five years. I've had practice."

With that he pulled Johnny's shirt up over his head. Todd was probably the only person in the world who could get away with that.

After the bandages had been replaced. Todd sat down next to Johnny to ask a very serious question.

"Nny... Do you know what uhh... what happened to... I mean did you kil-"

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

Someone was at the door.

* * *

**A/N my bad everybody. I took way to long to write this measly little chapter.  
It's NOT Raxzo's fault.**


	5. We All Missed Shmee

Todd got up to get the door. Johnny needed to rest, and he didn't seem to mind anyway. Peering through the peephole, Todd almost jumped in surprise. He saw someone there that he never thought he'd ever see at Johnny's doorstep.

A policeman.

He opened the door a bit. "Can I help you?"

"Are you a Mr. Casil?" the policeman asked. He was devoid of all distinguishing features in both appearence and voice.

"Um, yeah..."

The policeman grabbed Todd's arm. "You're wanted for questioning, Mr. Casil. You were seen at a crime scene earlier today."

"What?!" Todd exclaimed. "What about the cowboy? Didn't anyone see him?"

The policeman made no emotion at all. "There were no reports of anyone else at the crime scene."

"But there was a newscast and-"

"Come with me, Mr. Casil." the policeman ordered. He yanked Todd outside.

Todd thought it was going to happen just before it did. Johnny was now right next to Todd, his scythe slicing into the policeman's gut.

"Don't _ever _touch Squee." Johnny said. Even with a bum arm, the maniac was deadly as a grim reaper. The policman's guts squelched out of his cut. He bled to death.

"Well that was... interesting." Johnny said. He didn't seem interested at all.

"How'd he know I was at your house? And how come he didn't know about that dead cowboy?"

"Hmm... Wiliker..."

"Wiliker? Was that his name?"

They both stood there for a full few minutes before Johnny spoke up.

"This needs some thinking food." He began to walk.

"Nny, what's thinking food?"

"Cherry Fiz Wiz, of course, Squee!" he called back. He waved like crazy (again, cuz that's his thing with Squee).

Todd wanted to tell him to be careful with his wound, but it didn't matter. The only person that Todd knew of that actually ever hurt Johnny was dead. Nothing to worry about.

Todd walked back inside and sat down on the couch. He idly gazed at the painting that was still laying there and smiled.

Johnny could be a great artist sometimes.

"Isn't it beautiful?"

Todd leaped off the bed at the voice. He looked around and saw him. He was standing in front of the T.V. He had a top hat and held a black stick.

"How'd you get in here?" Todd asked, scared.

"It wasn't hard. I hypnotized that cop into coming here and distracting you and Johnny. You two went out and I came in." The man wasn't excited, but he wasn't emotionless either.

Todd was regaining his nerve. "Alright, why are you here?"

"Well, not for Johnny, if that's what you're thinking. I'm not like Wiliker. I keep my head. No, I'm here solely for you, Todd."

"You have a funny way of showing it!" Todd yelled. Hopefully, Johnny wasn't out of earshot yet.

"What, the breaking and entering?" The man stepped forward. "Johnny kills people in front of you. I sneak up on you. You can't honestly say that Johnny is any better than me?"

Todd said nothing.

"In fact, Johnny doesn't seem to value you friendship at all. Don't you remember years ago, your little bear? What was his name, Simon, Shin... Shmee?" The man smiled.

Todd wanted to ask how the man knew so many things about him and Johnny, but he saw the man take his hat off. He reached inside and pulled something out. Something soft. Something bear shaped.

"Shmee?" Todd asked.

"Yes, Todd. Johnny destroyed him. He'd always hated Shmee, and you always loved Shmee, but did he care? No. Johnny didn't like Shmee, so Johnny got rid of him. You weren't even part of the equation."

"No way..." Todd was shocked. Shmee had been missing for as long as he could remember.

"And what about your parents? You loved them too, but Johnny still didn't care. In his eyes, they were evil. They had to go. You asked him not to, and he ignored you, did it anyway. Does that sound like a friend?"

Todd stepped forward, just to touch his beloved bear once again. But the man put Shmee back in his hat and put his hat back on.

"Johnny's getting back soon. I should leave." He walked to the door. "My name's Roreese, by the way. I hope we can be friends." Roreese stepped outside and closed the door.

Todd sat back down shocked. Of course he knew Johnny had killed his parents, but... big deal, right?

"Right?" Todd said. No one answered.

The door slammed open, and Johnny jumped in. "Fiz Wiz, Squeegee! Hope you like..." Johnny noticed Todd looked pale. "Squee? You okay?"

Todd stared at Johnny for half a second.

"Yeah... Johnny. I'm fine."

* * *

Wiliker waited standing on the roof of Johnny's shack. A quick silhouette of light, and Roreese was standing there.

"Took ya long e'nuff." Wiliker said.

"Sorry. Had to be sure Todd would listen. I conjured up his old bear. That probably got him." Roreese replied.

"Better be gettin' back then."

"Right." Roreese waved his wand. "Shiva will be mad if we're late."

Once again, the two glowed and disappeared.


	6. Roofs Are Just MEANT for Jumping Off Of

A/N: tasty cheez here, I'd just like to say my bad for how HORRENDOUSLY late this chapter is. I've had finals, tournaments, camping, broken computer (that still isn't fixed), and a mild case of writers block, but even with all those excuses it still shouldn't have been this late. I'm sorry.

* * *

It had been a couple of days since Todd had had his visit with Roreese. He'd been staying over at Johnny's house; being at home only made him think of his parents.

Todd still hadn't asked Johnny about his parents. He'd always thought that Johnny had killed them, and he had been okay with that. But hearing it from someone else just made it seem... more real. That strange man had quickly and effectively destroyed his veil of denial.

The two were returning to Johnny's house after a routine stop at a 24/7 when suddenly a shadow fell from the sky. Well, at least, that's what it looked like to Todd and Johnny. The shadow was a figure, humanoid, male, and bent it's knees as it hit the ground. It took Todd a half-second to realize that he'd jumped- not fallen- from a roof that he had been sitting on.

We'll take a moment here to answer a major question for the audience: Why was he up there?

You see, he was really just kinda hangin' out. He spends a lot of time doing stuff like that. You get to see a lot of things on roofs that you would otherwise not see. For instance, just this week he had seen the early morning sun rising proudly against a pink-orange sky, turning all the surrounding buildings in the skyline to dark silhouettes. He had seen a cute little squirrel share its nuts with another squirrel. And lets not forget the time a few days ago when he saw a cowboy fighting a goth in flaming ring of automotive death. Now _that_ part was interesting; so interesting, in fact, that he'd been following the goth around since his fight with the cowboy, and, frankly, now seemed like a good time to introduce himself.

Anyhoo. That guy jumped down in front of Todd and Johnny.

Todd and Johnny didn't jump back in surprise, or go into defensive mode or anything like that. They simply stared at the man that had materialized in front of them with a rather confused look on their face. With out removing the straw of his Freezy out of his mouth Johnny asked a very simple question.

"Umm... What the fuck are you doing?"

"Well you see, I couldn't help but notice that you are the two who fought against that cowboy the other day and I thought I'd ask-" Before he could finish a sentence Johnny's knife had flown at the man's throat. Johnny had pushed him into a wall and pinned him down with the knife at his throat, not quite hard enough to draw blood.

"Now you tell me-" Johnny began, but it was his turn to be interuppted. The other man's body moved in a rapid motion, and Johnny suddenly found himself looking the other way with his arm bent behind him in a very uncomfortable position.

"Why did you attack me?" the man asked. His voice wasn't angry or threatening, just curious.

"You're with that crazy cowboy bastard! I'm not stupid!" Johnny spat, trying to escape.

"I kindly disagree." The man addressed Todd now. "Is there anyway I could get him to talk _without_ trying to kill me?"

Todd stared for a second. "How did you get his arm back there?"

"It's all in the wrist."

"Oh, neat. Umm, no he will keep trying to kill you I'm afraid." Todd said in a very nonchalant way. As if to prove Todd's point, Johnny continued to struggle, twisting around and acting far more like a trapped animal than he wanted to.

"Well your very nonchalant." Told ya. The unnamed man raised his right hand and brought it down on the side of Johnny's neck in a karate chop. Johnny eyes drooped and he fell to the ground. Out like a light. "If he isn't going to co-operate then I'll just have to talk to you, won't I?"

Todd bent down next to Johnny, shocked, and checked his pulse. There was a slow yet steady beat. He then stood up, fears assuaged."You know, there are only two people that have ever beat him in a fight. And your one of them."

"Fascinating. Why are you so calm about this?"

Todd sighed. "I've been through so much shit, it's really hard to phase me anymore. Plus I can tell that you won't kill Johnny."

"How?"

"Just... something about you..." Todd trailed off. The two total strangers stood next to each other, an unconscious homicidal maniac at their feet.

Todd finally grabbed Johnny by the feet and began to drag him the rest of the way home. The nameless man stood back for a few moments, and then began to follow.


	7. Stars Don't Like You At All

_Oh, god, it happened again,_ Johnny thought.

The world was a deep dark and he could barely move after the effects of unconsciousness. Unintentionally, forcibly, unwillingly... he'd slept. True, he'd been knocked out, but it was still a sleep, and that was unforgivable. Johnny tried moving his arms, but to no avail. His body was so tired after all the sleep it was deprived of, it wanted to get what it could out of the little sleep it did get.

His other senses still worked, though, so he could deduce a few things about his surroundings. He was lying on a cut, rotten wooden floor, presumably his own. And there were voices; not the crazy styrofoam-form-taking voices, mind you, but real human voices. One of them was... Squee. Probably.

In his head, Johnny cursed the notion of 'sleep'.

* * *

"So you're a hobo?" Todd said. He'd let the strange man into Johnny's house and onto Johnny's couch to talk. Johnny was unconscious on the floor, so he wouldn't mind. There was an odd vibe about the man, some sort of force about him that made Todd want to trust him.

"Well, I prefer... 'Bohemian'." the man replied. He scratched his dirty brown hair with a gloved hand. His entire attire was scraggly bum clothing, from his beaten-up jacket to his ratty old tennis shoes.

"But 'bohemian' implies artistic appreciation. So far, you don't seem blatantly appreciative of any kind of art." Todd quipped.

The man smiled. "What's with the good vocab all of a sudden?"

Just barely, Todd blushed. Neither of the two noticed Johnny stirring.

"That's exactly why I have my name." the man said. He stood up as Todd just stared inquiringly.

"What you did just now, you were trying to prove me wrong, to prove yourself right. That is how humans work. We all tear each other down to elevate ourselves. And if we don't tear down, we get torn down, forever, and it hurts. I don't remember much, but I remember that it hurts.

"Him and me," The man pointed to Johnny on the floor. "We're similar. We used to be... something, but it's gone. I forgot. He's forgotten things, too. He's just farther along. I think I used to not want emotions, and then I started to lose some, and..."

The man rubbed his eyes. "Even the humans that know of the tearing situation cannot stop it, they can't even stop themselves, because they're still human. They still fuck up. And you know what? Somewhere in the world, if people were to read what I am saying, some would be offended by the word 'fuck'. And they would write angry letters, and they would sue, and a billion other atrocities, and all of it is only for themselves, no matter what illusion of modesty, of protection, or religion or anything.

"Inside, they only want to feel good. We all do. But that doesn't make it right."

Todd remained silent. Johnny didn't move.

The man moved to the window. "Do you see the stars and wonder if they care? They don't. They're indifferent. They would never help you, but they would never hurt either. They are true friends.

"That's why I call myself 'Tycho'. He was an astronomer, a man who watched the stars. I want to be him. But I don't want to be human. I want to be a star."

Tycho the Bohemian looked at Todd. The teen could see that he was crying. Then he changed.

"Heh. Sorry about that. Got carried away. My name's Tycho, by the way." He offered his hand to Todd.

Todd stared for a moment. Slowly, he grasped Tycho's hand. "Todd Casil." he said, shaking with Tycho.

Suddenly, a human movement, and a knife was at Tycho's throat.

"And I'm Johnny C., but you can call me Nny!"

* * *

It was a dark place.

Wiliker leaned against an unseen wall. Roreese spoke to the nothing.

"Wiliker has confronted Johnny, Shiva, and I've planted doubt into Todd." Roreese said.

A powerful eminating feeling came forth and made a voice.

**_AND WHAT OF TYCHO?_**

"Don't remember shit." Wiliker muttered.

Roreese glared at the cowboy. "Yes, he is as blank as Johnny now."

**_GOOD. YOU WILL RETRIEVE CITALLY FROM THE WORLD. SHE WILL HELP IN THE UPCOMING BATTLE. WILIKER WILL STAY HERE._**

"Figures." Wiliker said.

Roreese turned around. "If you could teleport, you'd be sent on missions too."

Wiliker said nothing.

"I will get Citally now, Shiva."

With a wave of his wand, Roreese was gone, and Wiliker was left alone with the nothing.


	8. Murder Is One HELL of An Addicting Drug

**Quick author's note: I, Raxzo, wrote the last little bit of this chapter with Wiliker in it, not tasty cheez. So if it seems like a different writing style, that's because... y'know, it is.**

* * *

"Nny, huh? I like it. Kinda rolls off of the tongue." Said Tycho, Johnny's blade pressed against his throat.

"Squee! What are you doing talking to this... _person?!_"

Todd said nothing.

"And you! Why are you so fucking calm! I could slit your filthy throat right now for what you forced upon me!"

"And what exactly was that?" As nonchalant as ever.

"You made me SLEEP!! You raped my mind with grotesque slumber!!" The blade of the knife now drawing small crimson lines across Tycho's throat.

"Is that all?"

"Is that _all?_ Yes that's why I'm going to end your little life!"

"You won't kill me. You can't, and you know why. I know why. Because I was just like you once. There were a few others, actually. We both split away. The only difference is that I won. I broke free of the torment. The voices eating away at your creativity, I got rid of them. It would seem that you did too, but the killing, it's addictive, isn't it? The feeling of your blade slicing through warm flesh, the fear boiled blood spilling onto you hands, and the death that wafts out onto the Earth. You don't kill to feed your monster. I can tell by the paintings. You're far more human than you want to be. Death is just your drug. The lows are much more extreme than the highs, aren't they?"

Blood still trickled down Tycho's neck.

"Oh, don't _even_ act like you know anything about my life! _NO ONE DOES! Not even Squee!!"_

Tycho went back to his innocent ignorance mode. "Oh. Sorry. Of course I don't."

Johnny sputtered, "What...? You can't... You don't..."

Johnny looked as though he'd been stabbed. In a way he had. Run through by the truth, impaled by the things he refuses to admit to himself, cut by this harsh reality.

"Your lying! You couldn't possibly know anything about me... You can't... not true..." The conviction in Johnny's voice died with every line.

His knife dropped, the razor sharp tip stuck into the ground holding the knife vertically. Tycho turned to face his twice failed attacker. Johnny's arms had fallen to his sides. His head hung low. His fists were clenched. A single silent tear fell from his face.

* * *

Tycho lifted his hand and placed it on Johnny's shoulder. Johnny didn't even care that he was being touched. This man was, unbelievably, human. Not an asshole, or some twisted filth-ridden mimic, he was one of those rarely found things on this world,

He was like Squee and Edgar and Devi.

* * *

Wiliker kicked random air in the darkness.

"Fuck-damn Roreese! 'If you could teleport, you'd be sent on missions too.' Shit, what a prick. Gotta get out there."

He turned to the nothing. "Shiva. Lemme out to get some more blood. Yer gonna need it soon."

The eminating came again.

**_YOU CANNOT BE TRUSTED. HISTORY SHOWS THIS._**

"Hey, things change, Shiva. I just wanna get that wall painted before ya take us all out. Trust me."

Silence.

**_VERY WELL. GO._**

Wiliker surpressed a grin as he walked away from the nothing. He couldn't let Shiva know he was lying. Well, not really lying. He was going to bring back a body for Shiva. That just wasn't _all_ he was going to do.

Soon, there were concrete steps in front of Wiliker. He slowly climbed them and eventually made his way up to a door at the top. He grabbed the handle and creeped it open.

With a step, the surrounding darkness from below was gone, and Wiliker was in a nice carpeted house. There was nice furniture and nice, clean walls, and a nice, well stocked kitchen and an all around nice atmosphere. The type of house a rich, well-functioning family would live. Oceans away from the dark dank basement below.

Out the nice, clean window was a picturesque little gated community. Over a black fence surrounding the community was the rest of the town, dirty and sloppy and inferior to the gated community.

It was the perfect place to find assholes.

Wiliker walked to the window. Outside was a woman jogger, wearing short, skimpy clothing to show off her surgery-enhanced body. Wiliker smiled.

"That'll work." he said. He unholstered his pistol and stepped outside.


	9. She's A Mummy, By The Way

Todd was a little weirded out.

Tycho and Johnny were now some kind of friend, or something, and all three men were sitting on Johnny's couch, watching mindless television. No other lights were on. Both Johnny and Tycho held blank expressions.

Less than an hour ago, Johnny tried to kill Tycho, again, and Tycho brought Johnny to tears. That was scary. Then Tycho did some weird shoulder touching deal and Johnny didn't care. That was scarier.

And so they eventually got here, vegetating on a couch. Todd was nervous between the two; he kept thinking about his parents and Shmee and Johnny and Tycho snd Roreese and all the complicating factors. He was mad at Johnny, but he was happy for him, and felt bad for him; Tycho was confusing and shocking and calming; and he just couldn't stop his mind from wandering to his parents.

Todd felt indistinctly surprised to find he felt homesick for his terrible parentals.

He suddenly realized that _this _was loneliness, being family-less and alienated from his one true friend. Not that wimpy emo-shit that every angsty teen whined about in their heads; true, heart-stabbing, tear-producing, body-racking loneliness.

Todd started to silently cry as Tycho and Johnny watched T.V.

* * *

_They're just sittin' there, _Wiliker thought.

Through the cracked, rotten roof of Johnny's shack, the cowboy could see Johnny, Tycho and Todd sitting on the couch, watching T.V. Todd's eyes looked wet, or something.

Wiliker thought some more. _C'mon, do somethin'. I need a reason ta hurt ya._

A full burlap sack shook behind Wiliker.

"Coulda sworn you was dead." Wiliker said. He kicked the sack with extreme force. There was a crunching noise, and the shaking stopped.

"Fuckin' bitch," he said. "Gonna make the roof crack."

Suddenly, the wooden roof began to creak and bend, splinters flicking off.

"Ah, fer the love a shit..." Wiliker muttered.

The roof collapsed, and Wiliker fell into Johnny's living room.

* * *

Johnny noticed some odd bits of wood fallinf down from the ceiling and into the path of the television light. It was distracting, so he looked up just in time to see a man fall through and onto the floor. Some kind of bag fell, too.

None of the three on the couch moved.

"Huh..." Tycho said.

With a groan, the man sat up, and Johnny stood up himself.

"What the hell are you doing alive?! I made you explode in a car!!" Johnny yelled to Wiliker.

Wiliker slowly stood up to match Johnny. "Goddamn, Nny, you outta anyone should know we don' _die_."

Todd rubbed his temples. "That makes _so much sense_." His eyes were still wet.

"Ah, well, it really doesn't matter." Johnny said. His eyes took that crazy gloom look known as murderous intent and his hands produced another smiley-face-hilted knife from behind his back. "I'll watch you bleed to death this time."

"Neat-o." Tycho quipped.

"Yes." Johnny said.

Wiliker's hand sped toward his pistol. Just as his hand touched the handle of the gun, he saw Johnny's knife was already rushing towards the cowboy, with Johnny right behind it. The blade schripped through the air and-

Wiliker disappeared behind a flash of light. Johnny's knife kept moving until two fingers grabbed the blade and kept it from flying forwards. Johnny didn't account for this and smashed headfirst into Roreese. The top-hat-bearing man didn't move at all. The small wand-type stick in his hand still glowed a bit. Over his shoulder was a human-shaped form covered in rotten bandages.

"Wiliker," Roreese said. His expression was that of a furious spidermonkey. "Shiva is waiting."

Johnny stood up, holding his head. "Sheee-eez, just warp right in front of my, why don't you..."

Roreese looked at him like he was studying something new. "Johnny. It's been too long."

"Oh, I am so _absolutely_ sure that it has." Johnny said.

Roreese smiled and looked at his bare wrist. "Oh, would you look at the time. We've got to get going." He motioned his head towards the figure on his shoulder. "Important cargo, you see."

Johnny glared at Roreese the way he did to his thousands of victims in the past. "I see."

"Tycho, good to see you, too." Roreese said. Tycho just stared.

"Todd." Roreese nodded to Todd.

_Shit, _Todd thought.

Roreese waved his stick, a light flashed, and Roreese and Wiliker were, along with the things they were carrying, gone.

All three of them kept perfectly unmoving. Tycho still looked bored, uninterested, uninvolved. Todd clenched all his muscles, waiting for what was coming. Johnny stood stock still.

"Squee," Johnny said. He didn't turn around. "How do you know that guy?"

* * *

The empty house in the gated community was quiet. Then a light flashed, and it was full.

Wiliker thumped onto his back, again. The sack fell on top of him. "Fuck... Watch where ya teleport folk!!" He glared at Roreese.

"I wouldn't have had to teleport you if you hadn't sneaked out to stalk Johnny." Roreese replied. He still carried the bandaged thing on his shoulder.

"Hey, ah got th' damn blood! Ah did what ah said ah'd do!"

Roreese produced a paintbrush from his hat. "Fine. Then do it." He handed Wiliker the paintbrush.

The door to the basement opened on its own. The darkness from below crept it's way up and into the house. Wiliker resisted the urge to physically assault Roreese and made his way into the basement, paintbrush in one hand, sack full of the body in the other. When Wiliker closed the door behind him, the darkness disappeared back into the basement with the cowboy and Shiva.

Roreese took the bandaged mass and laid it on a couch in the living room. He tapped the figure on what was probably its head with his wand.

He took a step back. The figure shook, slowly, shaking its way around the couch. The sides ripped open, two slim arms, also wrapped in old bandages, sprouted out. The figure was definately more human now, its upper half sitting up, arms at its side. The lower half ripped in two as well, giving the figure legs.

Its arm raised up to the center of its head, and its covered hand gripped the bandages there. A quick pull, and the bandages off half its face ripped off, revealing mottled gray-green skin and a feminine colorless eye.

"Citally," Roreese said. "Shiva needs you."

Citally turned her half covered face to Roreese. "And of course I'll be glad to help." she replied, slowly, with an alluring womanish voice.

From the basement, the eminating came, soaking Wiliker and Roreese and Citally and the whole house and the entire gated community outside with nothing.

**By the by, Roreese's 'stick/wand' is like those magician's wands, what with the plain black stick with a white tab at each end; absolutely _NOT _the crappy Harry Potter kind. **


End file.
